"Thanks, my son," said Grim, with alacrity "Somebody second that, and let's get to business."
Somebody obligingly seconded, and Grim enthroned himself with dignity in the chair, and said cheerfully, "Carried nem. con. That's the way to commence biz. Now, you fellows, I thank you for this unexpected honour, which has quite taken me by surprise. I shall always—"
"Shut up, Grim," said Brown. "You know jolly well you asked Wilson to propose you."
"All right, Brown; I'll talk with you afterwards. Sorry your Roman nose is out of joint; but nobody proposed you, you know, so shut up. Gentlemen—"
"Hear, hear!"
"Biffen's are cock-house at last" (deafening cheers) "and we must make our concert a stunner. It must go with a bang from start to finish. It must lick every other fag's concert that ever was, and 'be the bright harbinger of—'What is the rest of the quote, Wilson?"
"'Of future joys,' you ass."
"'Of future joys,' you asses."
"I'll punch your head, Grim; you said you remembered it."
"All serene, old man, never mind the cackle."